


E SUN THE SUN THE SUN

by hauntedbytears



Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: Bad Poetry, Multi, Pining, Poetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 02:05:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18929113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedbytears/pseuds/hauntedbytears
Summary: Use your Tears of the Bazaar





	E SUN THE SUN THE SUN

They say that the sunlight kisses an island somewhere across the dark expanses of the sea, and in the moments of lucidity between the high of sphinxstone, you fight quiet pangs of jealousy.

(E SUN THE SUN THE SUN TH)

Jealous of a silent block of land. Are you truly doomed to weep forever? Do you dream still of the light? It’s been so long. You are so far through your journey and the Sun has already forgotten you. Maybe it forgot you long before you even started the journey, when it abandoned you, when it asked (ASKED! The tenacity! The hubris!) you to carry its message.

When you rest you taste death like a promise.

When you wake you are rendered still by sorrow and overwhelming bitterness.

Bitterness! Bitterness like a curse upon you. To be denied of the love between Stars! To be rendered a messenger amongst the cosmos and to witness to goings on of the Judgements, subject to their inane laws all whilst love, like a supernova, hurts like burning inside you.

How many stories?

You won’t let yourself admit the second truth of it, that every new tale you add to your collection has been quietly skimmed for some newer version of law, some forbidden love that spans the rigidity of roles, exists despite the third party burning away somewhere beyond all of this, silent beauty so sweetly displayed.

(-name her not! Name her not, the bitch!)

And here you are, poor ragged thing, carrying the message that will kill your love. And all the while the timer counts down. And all the while you wonder if it might just be better to fade away. Couldn’t you leave now? Face the Sun, being always the servant of your master, and watch it die under its own grief.

(So be it! So be it! Let the Sun feel a smidgen of what you have been drowned in! Let the Sun understand the neverending darkness of it all)

But you cannot. There is something profound that aches, locked deep in your spires and your unknowable depths, and you cannot escape it.

Are you doomed to love?

What about the truth? That when you sleep you still dream of the Sun. That when you dream, high on stone soaked in some sweeter memory, you can feel the caress of warmth on your form, the sweet gentleness of light. That each tear you weep is not just for you.

What kind of love is this? That would demand in equal terms pain and devotion.

**Author's Note:**

> This is blatant fanservice and the fan is ME (listen I really got caught in the fanon of this yeah?)  
> Anyway enjoy my unedited ramblings.


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